


Delphi Calling

by gaeriel



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a meddler but his heart is in the right place, Gen, One Shot, Pre-2011 Batgirl comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaeriel/pseuds/gaeriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity walked into her office and stopped when she saw the man standing at the window looking out over Star City. He was tall and broad-shouldered with black hair and wearing a very expensive looking suit. “Um, hi. Can I help you?” </p><p>Spoilers for Season 4 of Arrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delphi Calling

Felicity walked into her office and stopped when she saw the man standing at the window looking out over Star City. He was tall and broad-shouldered with black hair and wearing a very expensive looking suit. “Um, hi. Can I help you?”

He turned toward her and she gasped. “Oh. You’re Bruce Wayne!” She moved forward quickly, her heels clacking against the marble floor, and held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had an appointment today.” She gestured to the couch and sat down in one of the cushioned chairs opposite him. 

He smiled at her, and she inwardly reminded herself Wayne Enterprises was one of Palmer Tech’s strongest competitors, but _damn_ , she could still admire a pretty face. “I’m must admit I didn’t have one, Ms. Smoak. I talked the front desk into letting me up.”

She pursed her lips slightly and made a mental note to have a talk with security. Too many people just waltz into her office with no warning. She forced herself to relax and smiled back, leaning back into her seat. “I have a few minutes free,” she granted him. “I’m happy to sit down and have a friendly chat with you.” She paused and gave him a pointed look over her glasses. “Emphasis on the _friendly_ , mind.”

He chuckled. “I promise. I have only good intentions towards you and your company.” He cleared his throat as he leaned forward. “I recently saw the news of your miraculous recovery.” He nodded to her legs. “I wanted to congratulate you and wish you well.”

“Thank you,” she responded cautiously, warily. “It took a lot of hard work and I have one of Palmer Tech’s brilliant engineers to thank for it.” Even though she knew Curtis would never abandon her, she would shank Wayne, billionaire or no, if he tried to poach Curtis from her. 

“Yes, it is that microchip that I was most intrigued by.”

“And that chip is not for sale for any price,” she told him sharply. 

He held up a hand. “I’m not interested in buying it,” he told her.

“…You’re not?” She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at him quizzically.

He reached down and pulled over a briefcase. “I heard some rumors that you were planning on providing the chip to individuals who had become paralyzed.” He snapped open the case and pulled out a manila folder and held it out to her. “I have a candidate for your consideration.”

She took the folder and skimmed the contents. Oh, that poor woman… She looked up at Wayne. “You have to understand that we haven’t finalized the details of how the program would work. And my board has been very hesitant to undertake a charitable venture with a new technology that is potentially so profitable. And that’s not to mention the years of testing and regulatory hoops we have to pass. The program might never make it off the ground.”

“This can be another test case for Palmer Tech. And I’ll cover all the costs myself, personally.” He nodded to the folder she was holding. “Would your board consent? I’ll pay whatever they feel is fair.”

Felicity looked down at the papers, at the photograph paperclipped to the inside of the folder. The woman had red hair, glasses, and a huge smile as she laughed at something outside the frame of the picture. She was sitting in a wheelchair, her legs useless after some bastard had shot her in the spine. 

“Her injury was nearly three years ago,” she told Wayne gently. “It’s possible that it’s been too long. We don’t know if it will work. There haven’t been any tests or clinical trials. I could be a complete fluke.”

He hung his head briefly and when he looked back up at her, his eyes were haunted. “I know. Still, if there is even the possibility it could help...” his voice trailed off and he turned his head to stare out the window again. 

Her mind churned as all the reasons to say no pushed to the forefront, while her heart screamed at her to say yes. “It has not been approved by the FDA. It was sheer luck we found a surgeon willing to perform the surgery on me here.”

“If that same surgeon won’t, I can find another,” he countered. “I’ll fly her out of the country if I have to.”

“There’s only one chip currently in existence and it’s attached to my spine. I don’t know how long it will take to get manufacturing up and running.”

“Can your staff build another one? As I said, I’ll pay whatever you want.” He was looking back at her intently. “Please.” That last was said softly, without pretense of pride or negotiation. 

Felicity glanced back at the picture. “Why her?” she asked. “Why is she so important to you?”

“She and her father are friends. If I can help them, I will.” He looked at her pleadingly. This wasn't Bruce Wayne, playboy, or Bruce Wayne, head of Wayne Enterprises, siting in her office. This was Bruce Wayne, human, and Felicity felt her resolve crumbling. But there was something in his eyes that she recognized as seeing in Oliver's: guilt.

"There's something else. Why are you personally here? You could have called or emailed. Something made you come here." She held his gaze, steeling her spine and refusing to back down. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. “It was my fault,” he said, still not looking up. “Her getting shot was my fault.”

She closed the folder and placed it on the table. “Unless you were holding the gun, I sincerely doubt that,” she said. When his head jerked up and he gaped at her with surprise, she realized she had said that far more sharply than she had intended. Well, maybe she had, but she was so fed up with men who felt personally responsible for the entire world’s troubles. She stood up and started pacing. “And before you spin some convoluted story about how whatever happened to her was because of something you did or didn’t do which led to some random psycho deciding to shoot her, I don’t want to hear it.” She stopped and faced Wayne with her legs braced and her hands on her hips. “You don’t get to play the martyr when it was _her_ ,” she pointed one finger sharply at the manila folder, “that ended up in the wheelchair and _her_ life that was completely upended.”

Wayne’s mouth hung open and his eyes were wide as he stared at her. She sighed and dialed down her glare. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.” She dropped back into the chair. “For all I know, you did do something horrible and awful that led directly to what happened to her. But you can’t be responsible for other people’s actions. You can only be responsible for what you yourself choose to do.”

Wayne closed his mouth and rubbed his jaw as he studied her. “You are not what I had expected, Felicity Smoak,” he said.

“Well, you're not what I expected, either, given your tabloid reputation,” she responded with a slight smirk. She sighed and turned serious. Tapping the folder, she said, “Let me see what I can do. I can’t promise anything, but I can try.”

He nodded at her and stood up. “That’s all I can ask for,” he said as she got to her feet and shook his hand. “Thank you.”

They exchanged cards – his with his personal cell phone number scribbled onto the back – and she walked him to the elevator bay. Returning to her desk, she sat down at her computer and opened a new internet browser and typed in a few search terms. Horrified, she skimmed several news articles before hacking into the Gotham City Police Department records department and finding the original police reports. “Holy shit,” she whispered. There were pictures. The psycho had posed her nude and taken photograph after photograph, and they were all collected in the GCPD file. Felicity felt like she was going to throw up.

Opening the manila folder again, she stared at Barbara Gordon’s smiling face before nodding decisively. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. “Hey, Curtis. Can you come to my office, please? I have a project for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as that chip was introduced in Arrow, I just had to do this. I'm not even a little bit sorry.


End file.
